


J'adoube

by kmo



Category: Where on Earth is Carmen Sandiego?
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-22
Updated: 2011-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-26 10:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmo/pseuds/kmo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post "Rules of the Game," Carmen contemplates her relationship with Zack and Ivy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	J'adoube

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Carmen & Co. belong to Dic, Cookie Jar, et al.

 

 **J'adoube:**  interj. (French) "I adjust", warning by a chess player when only adjusting a chess piece and not moving it

* * *

Carmen lifted the dusty glass bottle and poured herself another drink. She liked the plink of the ice cubes, the way the firelight made the amber liquid seem to glow. She especially liked the way the single malt burned then numbed her lips, gradually anesthetizing her entire body. It took the edge off, something she needed rather badly at the moment. This past caper was unsettling to say the least. She lifted the glass to her ruby lips and took a slow and grateful sip.

 _-You are already a thief, a villain, and an apostate. Should we add alcoholic to the list?_

Carmen reminded herself that drinking scotch alone in the dark was hardly healthy behavior. Normally, the master thief had other ways to unwind after a heist. Often she just collapsed and slept for days once the adrenaline high had worn off. When she was in the mood for more discrete pleasures, Carmen took off for parts unknown, and not even to her closest associates knew her whereabouts. Sometimes she just curled up in her room and read a good book.

But twelve hours after the aborted chess game in Hawaii, Carmen's nerves were still coiled and ready to spring. Sleep was absolutely out of the question. Sex and literature seemed unlikely to help either. Hence, a very special aged scotch (lifted from the castle of a Highland laird, no less) she used to solve very special problems.

When she closed her eyes, the painful episode from Bavaria played itself out in her mind again and again and again.

 _It was not supposed to have happened this way._

 _The redheaded girl clung for her life to the stone precipice as the fairytale tower ascended higher and higher over the verdant landscape._

" _Ivy, give me your hand," the thief commanded._

 _The detective cringed, a mixture of hatred and pure stubbornness burning in her eyes. Carmen began to silently panic as she watched the teenager struggle to maintain her grip. "Ivy, stop acting like a child, and_   
_  
**give**   
_   
_me your hand!" The master thief felt overcome with an unfamiliar feeling of helplessness, caught between the unstoppable force that was gravity and the immovable object that was Ivy._

 _When the detective at last gripped Carmen's outstretched hand out of sheer desperation, it was too late. Though a strong woman, Carmen could not hold the young woman's weight from that angle. The girl slipped through her fingers, falling into the void below._

" _Ivy!"_

Carmen massaged her aching temples. Ivy could have died. All because the girl found her too frightening, too loathsome. The way the young detective had recoiled from her touch- as if it held some kind of contagious criminal leprosy- made her queasy with self-loathing.

True, Ivy's own stubbornness had played its part. But had her brother not managed to operate that flying antique, his sister's death would have been on Carmen's black-gloved hands.

- _Perhaps it is only natural_ , her conscience prompted.  _Would you have accepted Maelstrom's help when you were her age?_

Carmen shuddered. Gunnar Maelstrom was a sadist and a psychopath.  _I am not him_ , she told herself.

- _Zack and Ivy don't seem to appreciate the difference,_ the nagging voice replied.

The truth hurt, it really did. Carmen didn't understand. She considered herself to be a better kind of criminal. She planned her heists with expert care, to ensure that no detective, museum guard or innocent bystander ever got hurt by her actions. True, there were a few detectives who ended up on the receiving end of her barbed wit, but for the most part her manner was cordial, if not warm. She boldly drained her glass and chided herself,  _When did I start caring what other people thought of me?_

- _Christ, Carmen, when did you stop?_

Carmen's only reply to that particular observation was to pour herself another round.

- _Yes, I am sure whatever answers you are looking for can be found in the bottom of that bottle_ , her inner monologue tartly droned.

 _I stopped caring when I left ACME._ When Carmen walked out the Agency doors for the last and final time, she steeled herself against the various reprisals from her former colleagues. For eight, nine years she had run and run and run, never allowing herself the luxury of looking back. It had been a decade-long spree of literally stolen pleasures and daring escapes. And she had relished every thrilling minute of it. Until now.

Memories tucked away in the shoebox of her mind. The Chief. Suhara. It was like a lump of ice had lodged in her heart whenever she thought of them, preventing her from feeling anything at all. Many said that she didn't care. The truth was she cared too much.

- _But why is it different this time?_

Carmen watched the bitter liquid swirl in her glass and thought. The scotch had at last done its trick and her muscles felt long and languid, her hands slightly numb. The only variable that had changed in the game was presence of the new detectives on her case, Zack and Ivy. So many detectives had chased her over the years, their faces ran together in an angry adolescent blur. Those who had been her colleagues had either been reassigned or quit long ago- she imagined it was too awkward for them to chase after a woman who had once been the star of the agency. There were a few who were not without promise. She immediately thought of Jasmine, the clever Jamaican with the lilting accent. But although the girl was brilliant, Carmen knew that their games lacked a certain spark. Jasmine was methodical and precise, but ACME was just punching a clock for her.

And then there was Lee Jordan, of course. Hard to forget the only detective who had ever actually caught her. A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered that night in Morocco. She instinctively rubbed her wrists, recalling the bite of the metal handcuffs.  _Too close_. Her banter with Lee, often flirtatious on the surface, had always carried a dark and dangerous undercurrent of _something_. She heard Lee had been given a disciplinary leave after assaulting one of the Moroccan officers who had botched her arrest. It was for the best that the boy wonder had been taken off her case. Who knew how their next meeting might end?

But with Zack and Ivy, the game was neither too dull nor too sharp. It was just right.

 _-You're fond of them, aren't you?_  The annoying voice was back in earnest.

 _Fond is too strong a word._

 _-Semantics, Carmen. You like them. And you want them to like you._

Fine, she could admit she was  _fond_ of the brother-sister pair. Perhaps her heart was not in cold storage after all. It was too simplistic to say they reminded Carmen of herself, although they did. The thief gave a small smile, remembering Zack's insistent "I could have beaten her, sis!" as she fled the chess game hours before. Carmen doubted the boy could have actually outplayed her, but she would have enjoyed seeing him try. More than any other detective, Zack shared her love of puzzles and games, and was willing to play along. Ivy, however, was another story.

- _Stubborn. Self-righteous. Strong. Always wants to be the best. Remind you of anyone you know?_

 _Oh, Ivy. The picture of myself from a time when I knew right from wrong._

 _-Now you're starting to get maudlin. Or is that the scotch talking?_

And when the thief thought of the two of them, she felt envy for the bond they shared; Carmen had played the game alone for far too long. But that was not all. When she looked at Zack and Ivy, she felt an unprecedented sense of possibility.

 _-They could be the children of your mind, if not your body. There is somewhat powerful in that._

 _Yes, yes there is._

 _-They could be your pupils, as you were Suhara's. Informally, of course._

 _An attractive idea._

 _-So what are you going to do about it?_

 _I have to make them trust me_ , she knew. Not completely, just a little. Carmen shook her head and raked her fingers through her thick dark hair. How, she had no idea. She could be more personal, more open. She would be…nicer? A spoonful of sugar to help the bitter pill of her treachery go down. Anything to avoid another scene like the one in Bavaria.

And if that didn't work, a spare jetpack on hand would not go amiss…..

By their mere presence, Ivy and Zack had raised the stakes. The game, it seemed, had changed. And she would change with it.

"J'adoube," Carmen murmured softly to herself.  _I adjust._

 


End file.
